The True Face of Another
by tess4aria
Summary: Confined together for a summer, will Harry Potter, Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy find some common ground? Or is the headmaster's latest nefarious scheme destined for failure? AU between 5th and 6th years. Non-slash
1. Unwelcome News

**The True Face of Another**

****Dear readers,

I apologize, sincerely, for the hold-up with all my other stories. I tend to suffer from rather consistent Writer's Block. I mean to begin working my way through them, however. So please be patient just a bit longer! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this new little spark of inspiration. Please send me a review to let me know what you think!

AU from the end of OOTP.

I don't own HP.

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**Chapter 1: Unwelcome News**

"No."

"Severus-"

"Absolutely not! That you could even suggest such a thing, I can only assume those infernal sweet drops you are so fond of have finally impacted your higher brain functioning!"

The headmaster's implacable amiability after such a pronouncement only made Severus' scowl deepen.

Dumbledore laced his fingers together and peered at Severus calmly over his half-moon spectacles, but his voice was uncharacteristically tired when he spoke. "I am afraid we have little choice, Severus. The Dursley family's unforeseen and unfortunate fate has left us in a difficult position, as you well know."

"And why, pray tell, can Potter not stay with the wolf? It was my understanding that the brat was now the proud owner of the Mutt's lodgings. They should be secure there, assuming of course, that Lupin can keep his bloodthirsty wits about him and take his potion."

"I am afraid Harry would not accept staying at Grimmauld Place so soon after Sirius' death. I would not risk pushing the boy so far as that."

Severus sneered at the mention of the Marauder. "Oh yes, poor Potter. Of course we must coddle the brat, never mind at whose expense-"

Ignoring Severus, but cutting through his statement, Albus continued in the same, calm manner, "And Remus is currently on a mission for the Order. I am afraid I cannot spare this opportunity for espionage at this time, nor in the foreseeable future."

Severus attempted to school his expression, but could not quite hide the bitter resentment fighting to show itself in his sneer. "Of course. Now that your spy's position has been compromised, he has been demoted to the rank of honorary babysitter while others must step in to do his job. Had I known how easily you would deem unworthy those who do your bidding-" he spat, but stopped at Dumbledore's placating hand.

"You do neither of us justice, Severus. And you are as aware as anyone the trust I have for you to ask this of you now."

"I will not have that boy endangering Draco. Certainly the Weasleys would fall all over themselves for the honor of hosting Potter. A little red hair-dye and who would be any the wiser?"

Dumbledore paid no mind to Severus' quip. "While well-warded, the Burrow's location is known by too many people to be sufficiently safe. Though I have no doubt Molly and Arthur would be ecstatic to keep young Harry, we must consider the risks. You and young Mr. Malfoy are already targets, Severus. Keeping Harry with you will not endanger you more than you would be in any case. And while I realize our two boys have never gotten along, certainly a summer in close quarters could do much to change that. If nothing else, they may take comfort in being together in their mutual grief. And I have full confidence in the wards around Prince Manor to keep you all safe. Not to mention the extra safeguard that no one will expect the boy to be with you."

Severus had to grudgingly concede the truth of his mentor's statement. The fact that few knew of Prince Manor's continued existence served to make his ancestral home even more secure. His voice somewhat resigned, but not ready to give in quite yet, Severus said, "There must be another option. The masses would flock to take care of their precious _boy-who-lived_. Surely you can locate someone else!"

"I would trust none so much as I do you, Severus. I am sorry, my boy, but I am afraid I must insist. Harry will stay with you this summer."

When Severus looked unmoved, his nose wrinkling in distaste at the whole situation, Dumbledore said softly, "You vowed to protect Lily's son, did you not, Severus?"

The Potions Master's gut clenched, anger and regret warring in his chest. "You dare to use that against me?" He hissed. "That is the reason I have continuously put myself at risk as your spy!"

"As you are clearly having difficultly separating your duty from your grudges, I feel my hands tied to do little else. Do not think I am unaware of the sacrifices you have made, my boy. You have protected Harry admirably from afar. But as that avenue is no longer available to you, you must take a different role to do what he needs of you. You will take him, Severus." The old wizard's voice was suddenly harder-commanding and full of strength-and Severus was forcibly reminded of why Albus Dumbledore was respected throughout the wizarding community, despite his usual cheerful, bumbling disposition.

Severus' voice was ice cold as he bit out "As you wish, Headmaster."

A flicker of regret, mixed with satisfaction, passed through Dumbledore's eyes. "Thank you, dear boy. Do remember that this is only a temporary solution-until we can conquer Voldemort. Then you and young Harry may return to your comfortable mutual distaste if you so wish it."

"No worries there," Severus muttered sullenly.

"Ah, but I must ask that you consider keeping an open mind about the boy, Severus, despite your past disagreements. I know how keen your powers of observation are, yet even the best of us may make the occasional oversight, you know."

"The boy is an arrogant, disrespectful cretin, with no respect for others' privacy. I don't believe I will be having any sudden revelations about him anytime soon, Albus."

Those all-seeing blue eyes watched him sadly for a moment, and Severus determinedly ignored the flits of regret and disappointment he saw in them.

"I still ask that you try."

Before Severus could respond, he pushed on, "Anyhow, Severus, how is young Draco holding up?"

Severus visibly relaxed at the new topic, his features softening. "As to be expected. He is mourning his parents' deaths, of course, and keeping mostly to himself. I have done my best to ensure he knows my door is always open to him. Though he has yet to speak much of recent occurrences, he has taken to studying in my quarters. I see that as a hopeful sign, considering the circumstances."

"Indeed, you are right. Poor child. And what seems to be his reaction to your being revealed as a spy?"

Severus hesitated. "Surprisingly, I believe he felt relieved. While his feelings are no doubt confused on the issue, I have long gotten the feeling that had he the choice, he would not choose to follow the Dark Lord. Yes, the child adored his father, but he does not possess the same inherent cruelty Lucius had. I have never felt he would truly make much of a Death Eater."

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling somewhat. "Yes. For all his aplomb, he is still an innocent. Well, I am sure you will be good for him, Severus. Keep me updated, will you?"

Severus nodded curtly and left the office in a whirl of black.

-HP-SS-DM-

Harry woke up sweating, his breath harsh. Another nightmare. He sighed at seeing it was only 5am, knowing he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. The half-packed trunks spread around the room reminded him that he would normally be taking the train back to Kings Cross in a few hours. Not this time, though. Harry grimaced.

Careful not to wake his roommates, he moved mechanically to the bathroom and turned on the showerhead. For a time, he just stood there and let the warm water wash over his face, taking comfort in the momentary peace. He wasn't sure when he'd next have the opportunity to indulge in such a moment of solitary calm, and savored the familiar surroundings as the warm droplets attempted in vain to relax him.

While Sirius' death had left him devastated, hearing the news of the Dursleys' sudden death in a car accident three days ago had made him strangely numb. When he had been told of his relatives' fate in the Headmaster's office, he hadn't reacted much at first. It just seemed so absurd-unlikely-that it hadn't sunk in for another day or so. Now it had, to a point, and he wasn't sure what he was feeling.

Sure, they'd never treated him well. He'd wished for years and years for some way that he wouldn't have to live with them anymore-for him to be rescued. Taken away. When Hagrid had given him his Hogwarts letter, he'd thought he'd gotten his wish, but he had nevertheless been made to return every summer thereafter. But suddenly, just as he had given up hope of leaving them before he came of age, this had happened. He would never again return to Privet Drive, because of course, with no blood relatives, there would be no blood wards.

_No blood relatives._

The knowledge that his relatives' deaths had given him his long-sought after escape needled Harry mercilessly with guilt. And the thought that he truly, finally, was without any relatives in the world hit him with a harsh, cold finality. Even though they had never treated him as such, the simple knowledge that his aunt and cousin were related to his mother had given him some sense of stability-had grounded him. But now he felt like a floating weed. A true orphan, with absolutely no one.

This new realization had twisted the heart-rending pain and guilt he felt over Sirius' death. Sirius had been his last chance for a happy family. But now he had no family at all, and that thought, strangely, had calmed his raging pain over Sirius' loss.

Or perhaps he was just in shock.

But then Albus Dumbledore had thrown another wrench at him. Family-less he might be, but Voldemort was still around. And so, of course, rather than letting him take advantage of the empty independence his relatives' deaths had given him and enjoy a summer without impossible expectations hanging over him, he had been informed that he would spend subsequent summers with the two people who (other than Voldemort and his lackeys, themselves) hated him as much-if not more-than the Dursleys.

_Murphy's law is really something. And so damn applicable when it comes to Harry bloody Potter's life._

He didn't have the heart to tell Ron and Hermione-not that he was supposed to, anyway, as both Snape and Dumbledore had made him promise he would keep his summer whereabouts to himself…not that that had stopped him before.

But telling them would just make it more real. And so he was actually relieved to be able to use the excuse that Dumbledore had sworn him to secrecy-that it was for his own safety no one knew where he'd be, or with whom.

Harry stared at himself in the mirror, noting that he looked like absolute hell, his eyes deadened and red-rimmed, his skin paler than usual, his body even more abnormally thin. He didn't expect that to change anytime soon. Not where he was going.

Returning to his room, Harry decided to pack his trunk for the summer. He would have been done in mere minutes, but then he noticed the photo album Hagrid had given him his first year. He touched it reverently, but then couldn't bare to look at it any longer. To let it haunt him with the ghosts of his now-dead family. Dead. Every last one of them was dead now.

Harry wrapped the album, along with the Marauders' map and shards of Sirius' broken mirror, in his invisibility cloak, and stored them at the very bottom of his trunk.

They were all he had left of his family, now. He couldn't help but wonder if he wouldn't lose them this summer, too.

-HP-SS-DM-

"Harry, are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Sure. Yeah. 'Course, Mione." Harry offered her a weak smile.

"Well, whoever you're going with can't be worse than your aunt and uncle, right mate?"

"Sure," Harry replied again, forcing a grin on his face that only half-way convinced his red-headed friend.

"You can write to us, though, right?"

Harry hesitated, completely unsure of whether Snape would let him write to his friends.

"Er, I dunno. Hopefully, but-"

Hermione nodded, understanding he shouldn't say much more in public without risk of compromising the fact that he was going into hiding.

"Well, we'll write to you, mate. If you don't get our letters right away, I'm sure you will at some point, anyhow."

"Thanks guys. I'm sure I'll be fine. Have a good summer." Harry mustered up another smile and accepted Hermione's tight hug and returned Ron's grin before the two hopped on the last carriage to Hogsmeade station.

Then they were gone and Harry felt the loneliness start to creep in again. He stood there, lost in thought, until a familiar voice, dripping with disdain, snapped at him.

"Potter!"

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned around and just managed to keep his glare to a minimum as he addressed the potions master.

"Sir?" His polite tone was clearly forced, something the Potions Master clearly did not miss if his heightened glare were anything to go by.

"Though I am sure you think it beneath you to pay others even a modicum of consideration, let me inform you that I have neither the time nor the patience to wait as you pine away for your little fan club. Be assured, Potter, that this will be a very different summer than you are used to."

"I'm not so sure about that," Harry muttered, his jaw clenching.

Snape's expression was truly dangerous. "Oh, fear not, Potter. You will learn respect. No matter what it takes." He let that sentence hang menacingly before snapping out, "Be ready with your belongings in front of my office in precisely one hour."

With that, the man spun on his heel and strode away, his robes flapping theatrically behind him.

Suddenly, the hollow place in Harry's chest filled with familiar anger and hatred for Snape. It made him feel more alive, somehow. Perhaps if he could go back to blaming him for Sirius' death…but the subsequent death of the Dursleys had, perhaps illogically, taken the weight of the blame from Snape and heaved it back on Harry's own chest. After all, how could it not be Harry's fault that _everyone _he considered family was now six feet under?

And Snape had power over him, now. He had as Harry's professor, yes, but it was different from the complete control Uncle Vernon had held over him during the summertime. Living with Snape and Malfoy, there would be no help coming. And Harry had enough cunning and intelligence to realize that holding onto his anger was not going to help him survive. He would have to deal with Snape as he dealt with Uncle Vernon. Perhaps if he was lucky he could just fade into the shadows until next term...

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Thanks for reading! Please take a second to give me your thoughts!


	2. Settling In?

**The True Face of Another**

Thank you so much for your reviews last chapter! I realize it was just a teaser. But now the plot gets moving a bit! Let me know what you think!

Enjoy!

I do not own HP

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**Chapter 2: Settling In?**

Feeling as if he were about to walk the plank, Harry knocked on Snape's office door at precisely the time the man had demanded. The door swung open and Harry jumped, looking reluctantly up to see the professor glaring at him darkly.

"I see you can listen to instructions when worded simply enough for a three-year-old," he allowed, his scowl suggesting he had been looking forward to laying into Harry for being late.

When Harry didn't respond save to drag his drunk and Hedwig's cage over the threshold, Snape glared before slamming and locking the office door wandlessly behind him. He then turned to a far wall and muttered something too quietly for Harry to hear.

Harry gaped when the far wall fell away into nothingness, but then chastised himself for still letting magic surprise him after all this time.

"Come along Potter," he snapped. "I haven't the time to waste on gormless brats."

Rolling his eyes, Harry dragged his belongings and followed behind the Professor down the revealed dimly-lit hallway. Snape placed his hand on the stone wall they eventually made it to, and it too melted away, revealing a living room furnished comfortably with earth tones-mostly tans, greens and browns. The walls were filled with books, but Harry noted quite a variety of muggle classics mixed in with texts on magic.

As this was completely unlike how he would imagine Snape's quarters to be furnished (certainly his would have a color scheme of black, silver and green with gothic-style lighting, gruesome potions ingredients, and a coffin thrown in for good measure), Harry found himself asking, "Where are we?"

"Potter, do you even have a single brain cell spare from quidditch?" an aristocratic voice drawled, and Harry jumped as he noticed Draco Malfoy lounging comfortably on a green couch, a book in hand. "Have you already forgotten with whom you're staying this summer?"

"So these are Snape's quarters?"

"Not what you imagined, Potter?" Snape asked, his silky tone full of malevolence.

Before Harry could respond, Snape directed his attention away from him, and addressed Draco in a very different tone-something Harry didn't fail to notice.

"Are you ready, Draco?"

"Sure, Uncle Sev. Most of my things are already there." Draco stood up and stretched and then moved to the floo.

Harry watched as Snape put a hand on the blond's shoulder in what looked to be a supportive gesture, and Harry found himself suddenly feeling like an interloper-an intruder on something private. Sure, Snape had always favored Malfoy, but Harry had had no idea they were so close. He hadn't known Snape could sound so…gentle. It really drove home the discrepancy in his and Draco's positions and Harry saw his summer darkening even further. This really would be just like the Dursleys-if not worse, for Draco was many times more cunning and intelligent than Dudley.

"If Prince Potter would deign to grace me with his attention…" Came a hiss from behind.

Harry suddenly found himself grabbed forcibly by the arm and then Snape was almost literally breathing down his neck. "Mark my words when I tell you I take no pleasure having you in my presence for any longer than is absolutely necessary. While in my home, you will display nothing but perfect decorum. You will be courteous to all that reside there-that includes Draco, myself and my servants. You will be on time to each meal or you will go without. You will do exactly as I tell you, exactly when I tell you. You will desist with your habit of exploring at all hours and will stay out of any rooms you are not given clearance to enter. Is that understood?" His voice was deadly, and Harry just found himself nodding.

Snape sneered and then practically tossed Harry into the floo.

A minute of unpleasant spinning later found Harry flat on the floor of an elegant sitting room, his trunk clanging with the birdcage beside him, Hedwig squawking in annoyance, and Draco smirking at him from above.

"Nice landing, Pot-head."

Harry doubted Draco knew the muggle reference, and decided not to inform him, instead giving his attention to ensure Hedwig was alright.

Scrambling up, he felt Snape materialize beside him.

"Draco, my apologies. I just received a call from Madame Pomfrey and am needed at Hogwarts. I will return shortly."

"No problem, Uncle Sev. I'll just show Potter to his room."

Snape looked momentarily suspicious but then brushed it off in the interest of time. "Fine. I will see you soon." And then he vanished.

"Well? Come along, then, Potter. I haven't all day."

Harry considered snapping that he didn't give a damn and that he didn't need to take the spoiled git's orders, but the thought of waiting for an irritable Snape in this drafty old room didn't appeal to him much and so he sighed and followed Draco.

He glared at the arrogant blond's neck, annoyed by how comfortable he seemed as he led them from elegant room to elegant room. They passed by a grand flight of stairs but did not go up it, instead heading down a long hallway into what a far wing of the house. Harry wondered if Draco weren't taking him to some prison cell or torture chamber to lock him away…but eventually they came to a plain door at the end of an out-of-the-way hallway and Draco opened it to reveal a bedroom.

"Here, Potter. Hope you didn't expect better," he sneered.

Harry turned to respond, but Draco was already waltzing back up the hallway, and Harry sighed and entered the room, taking in his surroundings.

It wasn't awful, but it certainly wasn't the kind of bedroom one would expect in such an elegant house, either.

Furnished only with a single bed with an old nightstand, lamp and antique dresser, it was functional, but not one bit luxurious. It was, in all honesty, smaller than his bedroom at the Dursleys'. It was bigger than the cupboard, though, and the furniture didn't appear broken, so Harry figured it could be worse, considering with whom he was living. He noticed the amount of dust coating the floor and furniture, and with a sigh left his things to seek out something to clean it with. After all, he couldn't imagine what Snape would do to him if he were to use magic during the summer to do the job or, Merlin forbid, ask for assistance in making the room more livable.

He was in luck, as a closet full of cleaning supplies was only a few doors down in the same hallway. Finding what he needed, and using the bathroom he found across the hall as well, he filled a bucket with soapy water and found himself scrubbing his little room's floor minutes later. While it hurt more than he would like to admit that he was having to clean up his own guest room, he brushed that aside. At least he was only having to clean for himself, this time. Of course, he hadn't even been there an hour, yet, and was already on his hands and knees. That did not bode well for the coming weeks.

Once satisfied his room was dust-free enough for himself-if not for Aunt Petunia-Harry set Hedwig in her cage beside the window and opened the cage-door. "Hey girl," he said quietly, stroking her soft feathers. "Guess we're back to Privet Drive, but at least I don't think they'd mind if you were to fly around a bit. Opening the window, Harry found himself refreshed by the early-evening air. Hedwig took off after giving him an affectionate nip.

Smiling slightly, Harry stretched out on the little bed. It was slightly chilly in the room with the window open, so he pulled the thin covers up around him. Though they did little to keep the drafts away, Harry was so emotionally and physically exhausted that he soon found himself fast asleep.

-HP-SS-DM-

_Day 1_

Harry woke covered in sweat, despite the thinness of his blanket, vague images of faceless family members slipping through his fingers, collapsing and vanishing before him. Sirius falling through the veil had finally jolted him into consciousness. When he had finally managed to calm his breathing, Harry noticed the early-morning sun was already peeking into his room.

His stomach grumbled uncomfortably and he realized he'd slept straight through dinner the night before. He wasn't surprised Snape hadn't come to get him. After all, hadn't the man informed him that he would just go without if he couldn't make it on time? Of course, as Snape hadn't seen the need to inform him of what time meals would take place when he had snarled those rules yesterday, Harry wasn't sure how the man had expected anything else. Or perhaps he'd hoped for just that. Harry wouldn't put it past him.

He really didn't want to miss breakfast, too, though. There wasn't even a clock in his room, and he knew better than to use a tempus charm, so he decided to play it safe and attempt to locate the dining room as quickly as possible.

After a quick shower, Harry debated with himself about what to wear. Not that he expected Snape to care how he was dressed, but the man was obviously quite rich judging by the manor's rooms (excepting those in Harry's hallway, apparently), and so he figured the man probably expected those rooming at his house to dress well. Then again, perhaps the room was his way of letting Harry know his place-he would forever be a house-elf, come summers.

He told himself to stop being melodramatic. After all, at least his room and hallway were private. He could appreciate that. Maybe he could just avoid Snape and Malfoy this summer. If so, maybe things wouldn't be so bad.

Finally, he just pulled his Hogwarts robes back on, deciding to leave the Gryffindor tie behind. He didn't feel like giving Snape any more ammunition. Being as invisible as possible was how he'd always dealt with Vernon, and he was going to approach Snape the same way.

Harry glanced at his wand, wondering what to do. If he were at the Dursleys', he'd hide it away. But here, he was torn. Being around Malfoy and Snape without his wand would practically be a suicide wish, but he didn't want to give them any excuse to take it from him. But Snape could probably take it regardless, so he decided to keep it with him, just in case, and then left the hallway the way Draco had led him the night before.

Eventually he made it back into the main wing of the manor, and everything became noticeably more beautiful again. Though Harry assured himself he wouldn't feel comfortable living in such splendor, he was hyper-aware that Draco likely had a multi-room suite and private bathroom to himself. Harry's bathroom was private, too, he supposed, though only because it appeared as if it hadn't been used in decades. The same with all the little rooms along his hallway.

Harry explored hesitantly, curiosity and anxiety warring within him, but began to relax a bit when there was no sign of Snape. He just hoped he'd be able to find the dining room before breakfast time.

He opened a grand set of oak doors and felt himself drawn into the comfortable room beyond. It looked like a reading room, and was full of comfortable-looking armchairs and a large bay window with squishy pillow-seats which looked out onto what, for an instant, Harry thought was the ocean. But no-the water seemed to flow into and through and around large flat fields, stretching on as far as he could see. It was a marsh, Harry realized, though he'd never seen one up close. He remembered reading about the wildlife in marsh-like areas when hiding in the elementary school library from Dudley. For a long time, he'd wanted to explore one-had fantasized about being an adventurer and setting out through the marshland and out into the wide-open sea.

How odd that he would suddenly find himself living by a marsh, one of his childish dreams of a place so very different from the jail-cell of his life at the Dursleys', when he was imprisoned with two of his most hated people.

Now feeling more relaxed and openly curious, he proceeded to look more closely around the room. There was a beautiful mahogany desk in one corner, and Harry curiously crept forward to see several pictures scattered around on it. One was of a young blond child hugging a dark-haired man Harry recognized as a younger Snape around the neck. _Must be Draco,_ he mused, his heart twisting unpleasantly. The Snape in the picture wore the closest thing to a smile Harry could imagine his face capable of. And the child looked so innocent and happy-so different from the cold, sneering boy Harry knew.

Harry looked a bit further and noticed another picture half-covered in papers. He began to make his way toward it. It was of-he couldn't see the person's features clearly, but whoever it was had the most familiar green eyes-

Suddenly, a vice-like grip wound around his upper arm and he just barely stopped himself yelping.

He turned to see a livid Snape, and his gut dropped out, knowing, from the time the man had caught him in his Pensieve, how much he abhorred what would seem to be a blatant invasion of his privacy. From the look on his face, Snape seemed to be in a similar state as he had that day.

Snape yanked him back into the main hall and down several doors to the sitting room they had emerged into from the floo the night before.

"Up to your old tricks already, are you _Potter_?" He hissed. "I must say, I'm not surprised. Tell me, how does it make you feel to strut around like your insufferable father with no thought to anything but your own infantile fancies? Does it thrill you to invade others' privacy? It must. I'm curious, though, just how far you are willing to go to damage those around you. Well, did you find anything to spread around to your friends, Potter? Did you?"

"N-no, sir, I-"

"You are to cease and desist with this deplorable behavior immediately, Potter. You are not to venture into that room again, nor, as I already informed you, are you to explore anywhere without my express permission. Or is that concept too difficult for your inflated head to comprehend?"

The man was so angry that Harry found himself suddenly terrified of what the man might do. "No, sir. I-I won't do it again."

"No, you won't. But forgive me if I don't take your word for it, Potter."

"Sir?"

"At Hogwarts you may have gotten away with whatever little stunt you pleased, and no doubt your relatives were the same, but I assure you, Potter, you will not have me eating from your hand. You will learn respect."

Snape kept his bruising grip on Harry's arm as he led him down a set of stairs and into what Harry recognized with chagrin as a Potions lab.

"Come," Snape hissed, pulling Harry into a large storage area.

"For your blatant disrespect, you will have this room spotless by the time I return. That includes the cauldrons."

Looking around, Harry gulped at what looked like a most impossible task, but nodded.

Sneering, Snape slammed the door behind him and cast a ward on the door to inform him if it opened. He couldn't have the little snoop peering around his potions lab, after all.

Harry turned to prepare a cleaning solution, a lump in his chest. His stomach was grumbling madly, now, but worse than that was the fact that Snape hadn't given him any definite clue as to when he would return. Would he be permitted lunch? Harry didn't know, but steeled himself, forcing his thoughts away as he always did when he had to clean for the Dursleys under unfair circumstances. Numbing his mind until he could feel nothing, he set to work.

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Getting a little angsty? I fear it will be that way for a while. Anyway suggestions or thoughts you have-please share them!

I appreciate it so much!

tess4aria


	3. Stepping Back and Forth

**The True Face of Another**

****Thank you all so much for your response so far! I'm glad the story seems to be to your liking. Please continue to let me know your thoughts!

I don't own HP

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**Chapter 3: Stepping Back and Forth**

Severus Snape was not a happy man.

He had rarely been a particularly happy person-in his childhood, his drunken bastard of a father and Potter Sr. and his band of merry fools had done their best to make sure of that. The only glimpses of light he could recall were those moments he managed to steal alone with Lily Evans-whether at the playground which straddled their neighborhoods growing up or, later on, in the potions labs at Hogwarts.

Of course, Lily wasn't around any longer. He, himself, had been partly responsible, and this knowledge had worked to drain any residual hope for or desire to do anything with his life beyond atoning for his mistakes. For years now, he'd felt like an empty husk, going through the motions only for the knowledge that their was yet something of Lily still alive in the world.

Not that he cared for Lily's boy. From the moment he'd laid eyes on him-no, perhaps even before-he had hated the thought of the boy Lily had died for. The son Potter had given her. And when the boy himself had sat eagerly down on the first day of class, Snape had seen nothing but the eyes of the woman he had loved and betrayed shining from the face of his boyhood tormentor. He could not stand how much the boy looked like Lily, staring up at him with such intent, eager curiosity. He had decided in a split second to squash it. Surely then the boy would look even more like James Potter and cease to torment him with Lily's memory.

But his acid tongue, while indeed succeeding in taking away that curious glint to replace it with familiar loathing, rather than taking away the pain, only served to increase it by making him see Lily's eyes glaring at him in hatred. It was as if her ghost were judging him each time the boy scowled or glared at him. A very private man, Snape hated the boy for bringing his emotions so close to the edge with each encounter.

And now the headmaster had insisted he take the blasted boy in for the summer.

He had enough to be dealing with, what with the added responsibility of Draco. He was not a patient man, nor a demonstrative one, but he did honestly care for his godson. He had already determined that he would do all in his power to help the boy in his current, vulnerable position. He did not have the time or wherewithal to babysit the spoiled boy-who-lived. But as Dumbledore had pointed out, he had made a vow to protect the child and so he had accepted the man's terms that he house the boy. And assuming the boy was well-behaved and stepped not one toe out of line, perhaps they would even survive the summer.

But no. The brat's nerve was unbelievable. Not a day had passed and the boy was already causing trouble_._

First, in what was no doubt a ploy for attention, he had sulked the night before, refusing to come down to dinner after Snape had expressly reminded the boy not to be late. Snape had considered going up to argue with the stubborn child, but then decided it would only aggravate the problem. He would not fold to Potter's theatrics and plead with him. When the brat wanted to come down and show a modicum of decorum, he would.

And then, this morning, he had again failed to turn up for breakfast. It occurred to Snape that perhaps the boy had taken his words to heart that he wouldn't be permitted to eat if he weren't there on time. Snape knew that, like most of Hogwarts' population, Potter's opinion of Slytherins in general (and Snape in particular) was certainly bad enough that it wouldn't surprise Severus that the boy would have believed him capable of such. But he would have expected the boy to at least argue the point. Perhaps it was the child's obnoxiously stubborn side making an appearance.

"Tilly," he had called when the boy had failed to make an appearance.

"Yes, Master Severus sir?" Sqeaked a well-dressed house-elf.

"See if Mr. Potter is in his room."

"Yes, sir, Master Severus sir!"

An instant later, the elf reappeared, wringing her hands. "I am most sorry, Master Severus sir, but Mr. Potter is not in his room, sir."

Snape scowled. "I see…locate him, please, Tilly."

She looked worried when she reappeared a moment later. "He is in your study, Master," she whispered, wringing her hands.

"That little-" Severus' momentary shock quickly turned to rage, roiling in his chest, but he suppressed it long enough to address the house-elf.

"Thank you, Tilly. That will be all."

Facing his godson, he managed an "Excuse me, Draco," before nearly sprinting from the room. The potions master was bubbling with fury, the son and father melding as one in his mind. James Potter had always been out to get him, and here was his son, invading his secrets once again-first, his most painful memories, and now, the room full of his secrets and dearest possessions. He opened the door quietly and saw the dark-haired teenager walking over to examine his desk-the desk with his photographs and journals…

In Snape's rage, it didn't occur to him to moderate his grip on the boy's shoulder. He just had to get the boy out of there. How dare he! Severus would teach the boy, once and for all, that he could not get away with such blatant disregard for others. It occurred to him (not for the first time) that it was near sacrilege for Lily's eyes to live on in a person so unlike her. Well, Albus had given him responsibility for the child this summer. Perhaps he could do something about it. If he had to be stuck with the boy, he would at least do his best to knock the arrogance out of him. And anything he could accomplish-any less like James Potter he could make him-would be for Lily. In the red haze of his anger, he was utterly convinced of the soundness of his logic.

After assigning the boy a task which he was perfectly aware would likely take a week to finish, Snape returned back to the dining room, feeling guilty about leaving Draco alone. He'd barely seen his godson since they'd returned to the manor, what with helping Poppy last night, refilling emergency stock potions.

It was only as he sat down that it occurred to him that Potter still hadn't eaten breakfast after having fasted the night before. A brief twinge of guilt hit him as he acknowledged the task he had set Potter would likely need the energy only afforded by a good meal. But then, Potter had elected to skip the night before. And surely he had gorged himself on snacks from the leaving-feast or whatever his fan club had showered him with. Surely he had done so again this morning. Severus was worrying over nothing, pandering to the sympathetic picture Potter liked to paint of himself just as everyone else did. Sneering in disgust, he put the boy out of his mind.

-HP-SS-DM-

Draco was dying to hear what Potter had gotten himself into this time, but he held his tongue upon seeing how angry his godfather still appeared. Not that he wouldn't mind hearing one of Severus' famous anti-Potter rants, but he didn't want to spoil his breakfast with eau de le Potter. No, he would satisfy his curiosity about Potter later, but for now, he was more than happy to just ignore his existence.

Truth be told, though, Draco couldn't completely get the scar-headed prat out of his mind, no matter what he tried. He was absolutely furious that Potter had to be here, as Sev had assured him he did. Even if it wasn't by choice, the fact that the arrogant git was invading his time with his godfather just rankled.

Sev was all Draco had left, now, and he hadn't had the chance to see him (one-on-one, at least) outside of school in years-his father had insisted he was too busy learning to head the Malfoy family since he started at Hogwarts to leave any time for sentimental connections and vacations to see godfathers. So Draco had been reassuring himself with the knowledge that at least now he could bond with Sev as he'd never been truly allowed-but had always wanted to.

But then Potter had to step in and ruin that, too. Potter-who was the first person to ever downright reject Draco-to truly deny him something he desperately wanted. When he had refused Draco's friendship, something had shifted in him, and he'd felt his composure slip. So he had, if he were to be completely honest, overcompensated somewhat, and had deliberately pushed himself in Potter's face over the years. But now. Now Potter was living with them, and Draco could not stand the Gryffindor for taking up any of his godfather's attention. It made no difference to Draco that Potter was likely unhappy with the situation. He had to look out for his own interests, after all.

"Uncle Sev, are you busy this afternoon?"

"That depends, Draco. Do you have something in mind?"

"I thought we could work on some experimental draughts," Draco suggested lightly, keeping the hope out of his voice as much as possible.

"Ah. " Severus hesitated to use the potions lab while Potter was cleaning so close-by, but decided that he couldn't deny Draco the first thing he had truly requested of him in so long. "Very well. We shall work until lunch."

Draco nodded, a small but genuine smile tugging at his lips.

-HP-SS-DM-

Harry was exhausted and faint, but kept on scrubbing as diligently as possible. He was interrupted, though, when the store-room door opened to reveal Draco Malfoy. The blond's face darkened in anger, but noticing the cleaning supplies Harry had in hand, and how entirely scruffy his rival looked, his face morphed to a gleeful smirk.

"Ah, not spying then. Servant work for you, then, Potter? How fitting."

Harry didn't dignify that with an answer, but simply returned to his scrubbing.

Angry at being ignored, Draco bent down and said in a low voice, "You just make sure to stay out of mine and Uncle Sev's way, Potter. After all, a good servant is never seen nor heard," he sneered.

Harry swallowed his retort, knowing it would only make things worse in this situation, and did his best to ignore the other boy.

The blond stepped around him to grab the ingredients he needed, but as he glanced back at the unruffled way the dark-haired boy was continuing to clean, Draco scowled and surreptitiously dropped a vial of obnoxiously hard-to-clean ingredients directly into Potter's cauldron, wincing slightly at the sound of glass breaking and shattering every which-way.

"You bastard!" Potter hissed, leaping up in sudden fury, ignoring the bits of glass from the broken vial now embedded in his wrists where the dragon-hide protective gloves didn't reach. Draco smirked at finally riling the Gryffindor.

"What is going on here?" Snape's silky voice came from behind.

"Potter's throwing a fit, Uncle Sev."

Seeing the completely dirty cauldron, filled with broken glass and goop, Snape sneered at Potter. "Potter, I would have thought that even you would understand that cleaning a cauldron does not include adding to the mess."

"It was Malfoy, sir. I-"

"Draco is not your concern. He is a resident of this house and you will treat him with respect. Now get back to work. And Potter. Break another vial and you will regret it. Severely."

Smirking widely, Draco followed Severus out.

Blinking back the tears he was horrified to find springing to his eyes, Harry nevertheless pulled his sleeves up and began cleaning the cauldron once again after picking what glass he could from his hands. He couldn't tell if it was all out, but was more concerned with stopping the bleeding before it made his cleaning duty even worse. Finally just ripping a bit of his cloak, he wrapped his wrists and resumed cleaning, wincing whenever the soapy solution touched his cuts.

-HP-SS-DM-

"Go on up and get ready for lunch, Draco. I'll get Potter."

Draco scowled at the mention of his rival, but his lip quirked up a bit as he noticed Sev's identical expression at uttering the boy wonder's name.

"Sure, Uncle Sev. Good luck with that," he drawled.

Shaking his head in amusement, Snape opened the storeroom door, a scathing remark on his tongue which he would modulate depending on how little Potter had accomplished.

He stayed his tongue, however, when he noted a row of clean cauldrons neatly lined up. Potter had apparently cleaned and wiped down two shelves and was currently working on a third.

"Potter."

The boy jumped and only just managed to steady the jar he'd been dusting.

"Give me your wand." Severus could not believe the boy had done so much by hand. It just wasn't like the lazy brat who no doubt hadn't done a day of chores in his life-outside of Severus' detentions, that is.

Harry hesitated, but resignedly handed his wand over after a snapped, "Any day now, Potter!"

Severus cast a charm on the wand and was surprised to find that it had not been used since the previous morning-clearly, when the boy was still at Hogwarts. Annoyed to find himself having come to the wrong conclusion, he curtly handed the confused boy his wand back.

"Wash up and for god sakes get dressed in something better, Potter, before you come to lunch" he snapped and made to leave.

He was stopped by a faint "Wait, sir."

"What?" He growled.

"Uh, well, I can have lunch?" Harry cringed once the words had left his mouth. He knew better than to ask something like that. But instead of the look of evil glee at refusing his request he would have expected from Uncle Vernon, he was met with a brief instant of honest confusion in the Potion Master's black eyes before the man schooled his face into annoyance.

"What are you babbling about, boy?" He said sharply. "I would not have mentioned _lunch _had I not intended you to eat it, Potter. Now hurry up."

"S-sir?"

"WHAT?"

"Uh, well, what time is lunch and, er, where is the dining room?" He asked softly.

Severus blinked in surprise and then felt a slight twinge of guilt as he searched his memory and had to admit he had not informed the boy of either fact. Was it possible the boy's meal-skipping had not been deliberate? Regardless, that he had not taken the initiative to ask was clearly the fault of the boy's own stubborn defiance.

He looked so pitifully shabby, though, in his overlarge school robes coated in various potions ingredients, that Severus rolled his eyes and cast a quick scourgify on the boy and his robes. "Just follow me. You'll do without cleaning any more, I suppose. For now."

Harry warily followed the man up the stairs and through a different set of hallways until they finally reached a large (but not ostentatiously so) dining room. Draco was already there, and Severus took a seat beside him at the head of the table. Harry just stood there by the entryway, looking awkward, until Severus snapped at the boy to sit.

Harry sat about half-way down the table, which suited the Slytherins just fine. After all, they were happy for any excuse to ignore the Gryffindor.

A light meal of salmon on greens appeared on their plates, and Harry hesitated. Looking up, he met sneering black eyes and eventually he took a taste. It was absolutely fantastic, and he forced himself to eat slowly-to savor it-lest he gulp it all down at once. He also knew, from experience, that it wasn't a great idea to eat too quickly after eating nothing for several meal-times. Even after a year at Hogwarts, all the years and summers with the Dursleys had given him a seemingly permanently shrunken stomach.

As he ate, Harry did his best to shut out the comfortable and familiar conversations between the two Slytherins. He wasn't part of their world, and they certainly didn't seem interested in changing that any time soon. It was somehow lonelier, though, to be ignored by everyone around than to be fully alone.

Not like he wasn't used to that kind of loneliness at the Dursleys'…but with them, he was the freak wizard. Being treated the same way amongst wizards, even Malfoy and Snape, seemed to open his old wounds all over again, as if mocking him, assuring him he would always be a freak.

Speaking of wounds, he was preoccupied during the meal, also, with ensuring his sleeves covered his self-made bandages. He certainly didn't want to give Malfoy any more reason to smirk and gloat.

Eventually, Snape and Draco finished and Snape addressed Harry for the first time since he'd entered.

"Stay in your room, Potter. I don't much care what you do, but return for dinner at 6. Breakfast is at 7 and lunch is at 12 as it was today.

"Um, sir."

"What, Potter," Snape said exasperatedly.

"Well, sir, I was wondering how to know what time it is. I didn't see any clocks and-"

Severus and Draco were both staring at him like he was such an idiot that Harry blushed.

"Are you a bloody _muggle_, Potter?" Draco asked haughtily. "Use your wand, for god sakes."

"Huh? But it's the summer and-"

Draco rolled his eyes. "They can only tell if underage magic is used at mudblood, er, _muggleborn_," he quickly corrected at Severus' glare, "houses."

"That's so unfair!"

"Life is unfair, Potter. Get used to it. But _unfair _or not, the ministry is under the mistaken assumption that wizard parents will control their children's magic usage. The muggleborn rule was made in an attempt to protect the statute of secrecy," Snape explained sneeringly.

"Oh."

"So use a damn tempus charm," Draco said. "Bloody idiot," he added under his breath.

Biting back a retort, Harry nodded and left the room.

"I'm going to go flying around the marsh, Sev."

"Fine, Draco. I'll be in my study if you need anything."

Draco grinned at him and left swiftly, smirking at Harry who was standing right outside the door. Smirking more widely, Draco went to grab his broom, high on how easily he and Sev were knocking Potter off his high horse.

* * *

Poor Harry. More angst, more imbalance. And yet, some few explanations (or at least motivations) for Snape/Draco's behavior have been offered here. Do they make sense so far?

Please take a moment to review! I truly appreciate it!

Thanks so much!


	4. Seeing the Expected

**The True Face of Another**

Thank you all SO much for your lovely reviews! It makes it so much more rewarding to write to know that you have an audience! Please continue to let me know what you think!

Some warnings for this chapter: Angry Sev going a bit too far...nothing too serious, though.

I do not own HP.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Seeing the Expected**

Harry nearly ran back to his hallway, again noticing the obvious difference in décor. He wondered what these rooms were usually used for. They were so different from the rest of the house, and it was obvious they weren't being used currently-and hadn't been in a while.

Once in the bathroom, he washed his cuts and splashed water on his face. Gripping his wand in his hand, he smiled slightly at the one bit of good news he'd gotten so far. The magic in it felt reassuring in his grip and he quickly used what simple healing spells he knew, wishing Hermione were here. He was satisfied eventually. The cuts weren't gone, but they were now just little scratches and looked like they could have been any little minor scrape. He also felt much better for having had a nice lunch, but once back in his room, he collapsed on his bed and thought over the last exchange he'd heard between Draco and Snape.

It had floored him how different the man had sounded. He'd sounded, dare he say it, _soft_. Sure he'd always favored the spoiled Slytherin, but to see him now-he treated Draco as if he truly cared for him. And though Harry didn't like to admit it, he felt a twinge of jealousy. It wasn't that he much cared what Snape thought of him, or that he wanted Snape to treat him that way, but…with all that he was, he _had _always wished for just what that short exchange had made it obvious Draco had. For someone, like a parent, to be there for him, to take care of and help him be happy…

And it was also a blow to see that Snape was not the heartless bastard he'd always assumed him to be…not to everyone, at least. The man _could _be kind. He was capable of something other than snark. But that just made it so much worse that he treated Harry this way…It brought back all the years he'd felt so…unlovable. Alone. All the years he'd been treated as a freak.

-HP-SS-DM-

Dinner was much the same. The Slytherins determinedly ignored Harry, and Harry concentrated on his food, eating it slowly, honestly surprised Snape was letting him eat with them, considering how clear he had made it that Harry's place in this household was completely different from Draco's.

Once again, Snape only spoke to him as he made to leave.

"Potter. Tomorrow you will breakfast with us, after which you will continue your task of cleaning the storeroom. You will continue to do this until I say you may stop."

'What for?' Harry nearly bit out, but only just managed to hold his tongue. Of course the greasy bastard would extend his punishment just to give him an excuse to boss Harry around.

Fighting back the anger roiling inside (egged on by Draco's barely contained glee), Harry nodded sharply and made his escape.

Things would never change.

-HP-SS-DM-

Snape poured himself a finger of firewhisky and threw it back. He was exhausted. The Potter boy was plaguing him, despite the fact that he had only seen him at two mealtimes other than during the morning's debacle.

At times the boy was quiet-sullen, Snape corrected instantly. True, if Snape were to be honest with himself, were it anyone but Potter, Snape would almost say the boy had been reasonably well-mannered after the events of the morning. But this _was _Potter-and everything the boy did had to have decidedly Potter-like motivations. And he certainly wasn't being too harsh with the boy. Potter had been snooping through his private possessions, for Merlin's sake! The child had to learn to respect other people's secrets, and Snape would not let him get away with his tendency to wander at all hours wherever he pleased while living in this house.

Then, at dinner, the boy had eaten so slowly, almost torturously so, despite the fact that he hadn't eaten breakfast or dinner the night before, that Snape could only see it as the boy's attempt to make a statement-whether about the quality of food or what, he wasn't sure. Of course, Snape knew the quality here was equal to, if not of higher quality, than the provisions offered at Hogwarts, so perhaps the brat was simply trying to express his distaste for anything Snape offered him.

Typical Potter.

Admittedly, it was his annoyance with the boy's sullen meal behavior that had pushed Snape, at that moment, to demand the boy return each day to continue cleaning the storeroom. But he had not retracted his demand as, after all, it wasn't as if the boy had much else to do. And it was a good excuse to get the brat used to others not waiting on him hand and foot. Well-adjusted children had daily chores-a healthy amount, that is. Not the kind of slaving away Severus had been made to endure as a child before his mother had finally divorced Tobias Snape and moved them back to her family manor.

Of course, Snape considered, Draco was another child who had been brought up with others waiting on him…and perhaps it would be beneficial to both of them were Draco to take turns working as well. But Snape was wary of pushing Draco away at this juncture, confusing him into thinking he'd done something wrong. Snape felt truly sympathetic for his godson, knowing what his parents had meant to him. The fact that Snape was, for all intents and purposes, the only father Draco had now, made him doubly willing to treat the boy somewhat delicately until he had recovered.

And besides, Snape had heard that Potter wasn't so fond of his relatives. He was also aware that the boy never returned home for breaks. It was clear to him that the boy had little regard for the people who had raised him. Were he not such a bloody Gryffindor, Snape would suspect the boy of anti-muggle prejudice. But he was certain that, just like his father, Potter was simply spoiled beyond belief and likely only appreciated his relatives for whatever no doubt opulent gifts they bestowed upon him. So Snape just could not equate their deaths to Draco losing his parents. And sure enough, Potter hadn't shown much more than shock at the news of his relatives' fate. Snape had honestly been surprised at the apparent lack of grief the boy had expressed at this.

Of course, the mutt had also died. But Snape's bone-deep hatred of Sirius Black made him turn a blind eye to that. The Mutt's death was no loss, in his eyes, and so he deliberately ignored any consideration of whatever pain the bratty child was feeling about it. Removing that bad influence could only do the boy good.

But Snape couldn't help but feel, as he threw down another finger of his strong drink, that he was missing something important. Albus had suggested, much to Severus' annoyance, that he could be deliberately obtuse at times, particularly when dealing with the Potter child. But Severus would hear none of it and brushed that notion aside roughly.

Snape had promised Albus he would house the boy. He had made a vow to protect him. But this did not mean he had to coddle or pander him to ensure the brat's happiness. While that was now his job in regards to Draco, perhaps, he _would _not extend it to Potter. He absolutely would not let the child of his enemy feel he could take the same liberties with him as he would with, say, the Weasley parents. No, Severus would not endure such disrespect from Potter's son.

His convictions reaffirmed, he went up to check on Draco before going to bed himself. His eye strayed over to the door at the end of the same opulent hallway-Potter's room-but then turned quickly to return to his own suite. The boy had been afforded one of the manor's better rooms, after all. He was doing enough for the brat, no doubt.

-HP-SS-DM-

_Day 2_

Harry woke in a sweat. He had had a nightmare once again, but was comforted when the warm, and so very _alive _weight of Hedwig settled on his shoulder. The snowy oil nipped affectionately at his hair and he grinned.

"Morning, girl," he yawned.

An extraordinarily perceptive owl, Hedwig somehow always knew when he needed the simple reassurance of her presence. He lay there stroking her, thinking that at least he had one friend with him, before pushing himself to shower and dress hurriedly. Casting a tempus charm, he was relieved to see that it was only 6:30. Nevertheless, he headed to the dining room, tempering his desire to stop and explore the interesting-looking rooms along the way.

It was still early when he arrived, and Harry noticed a house-elf for the first time since he'd gotten to Snape's house. He remembered Draco mentioning that servants were 'not to be seen, nor heard,' and wondered if Snape's house-elves had to hide away whenever Snape or Malfoy were in the room. Feeling a sudden kinship with the little being, Harry smiled.

"Hello," he said.

The house-elf jumped, and her eyes widened comically.

"Oh! You must be Mr. Harry Potter, sir! Tilly is not seeing Mr. Harry Potter and it is worrying her! Is Mr. Potter alright?"

Harry blinked in confusion. "Uh, sure. Yeah. I'm, uh, fine. Thanks," he added.

When she didn't say anything else, he said, "So you're Tilly? Do you cook the food? It's really delicious."

The little house-elf's eyes brightened suspiciously. "Oh, sir! Thank you! Tilly is the head-elf, though also working here is Bilby and Nelly. We is all cooking the food, sir, but we is so very glad you like it! Tilly especially likes cooking!"

"Oh, yeah? I like it too, actually. That's what I…well, at my aunt's house, I used to cook a lot. I didn't like it when she made me, but I like the process." Harry wondered what he was doing telling a house-elf about the Dursleys, but for some reason, it eased the odd loneliness that had settled in his gut somewhat. Talking to someone who understood really worked wonders.

"Mr. Harry Potter sir is cooking? But-but is not the house-elves doing it?"

"Ah, well, my family are-were muggles, you see. So we didn't have house-elves."

The elf nodded sagely. She then came to a decision. "Tilly likes Mr. Harry Potter very much. If ever Mr. Harry Potter would like to, he should come to the kitchens and we shall make whatever it is he wants!"

Harry smiled weakly. "That's very nice, Tilly, but I don't think Snape, uh, Professor Snape would like that. He doesn't want me snooping around."

Tilly looked vaguely confused, but said, "Master Severus is not knowing if Mr. Harry Potter is in our kitchen. He doesn't come in very often."

Surprised, Harry said, "Uh, Tilly? Isn't what you said-I mean, I appreciate it, but you were talking about doing something behind Snape's back. Is that allowed?"

"Oh, but Tilly is a free house-elf!"

"Wha-really?"

"Oh yes. Master Severus is freeing all of his house-elves. The elves that is not liking this is getting new masters, but Tilly, Bilby and Nelly all are staying with Master Snape."

"I…wow. I wouldn't have expected that. So…so Snape's good to you, then?" Harry knew his voice was doubtful to the point of being insulting, but the little elf seemed not the least deterred.

"Oh, Master Severus is wonderful!" She beamed. "Tilly is knowing him since he and his mother, Mistress Eileen, came here when he was 12 years-old and he has always been very good to Tilly. He even taught Tilly Wizards' chess!"

"Are you serious?" Harry asked, gob smacked.

Tilly nodded happily but then became worried. "Oh, Tilly must hurry to finish breakfast. Master Harry Potter will come to see Tilly soon, yes?"

"Uh, sure. But how will I find you?"

"Just say my name, Master Harry Potter sir!"

"Oh, just call me Harry, Tilly."

She smiled. "Okay, Master Harry!"

Harry's mind was reeling as he sat down in his usual seat. To think that Snape-Snape, who had always tormented him and shown nothing but cruelty-could be so good to his house-elves…it boggled the mind. But strangely enough, rather than comfort Harry, it only made him feel worse, just as had the realization of how warm he could be to Draco.

It was seeming increasingly obvious to Harry that it was just he Snape hated to such an extent. Not that he hadn't known that before, but out of the context of school, it seemed much more blatant. Once again, Harry couldn't help but wonder-what was wrong with him?

-HP-SS-DM-

Severus was surprised to see the brat had actually made it to breakfast on time. Again, though, he began to eat at that obnoxiously slow pace which was irritating Severus more and more. Determined to forget the irritant and his horrible manners, Severus ignored the boy and involved Draco in a discussion on the qualities of Moonberry stamen.

Something else about the brat, though, was working at his nerves. Then it hit him.

"Potter. Why are you still in your school robes?"

Potter jumped. Severus narrowed his eyes. What did the brat have to be so jumpy about? What was he hiding? Something no good, undoubtedly.

"Well, Potter?" He asked, his voice faux-calm.

Potter mumbled something unintelligible and Severus felt his annoyance rising.

"You will answer me respectfully and clearly when I speak to you, Potter. And as for your attire, if you believe that remaining in your Hogwarts Robes is making some statement about how miserable you are and how much better you are treated at Hogwarts, let me assure you that I am not impressed."

"No, sir, it's just…"

"Just what, Potter? I expect you to dress in proper clothes tomorrow."

"But-"

"Do not argue with me about something so absolutely basic, you insufferable little brat! You will not wear your Hogwarts robes again whilst in this house. Is that clear?"

When Potter still looked ready to protest, Severus said "I will let it slide for today. But come to breakfast tomorrow in your robes, and you won't be eating. That goes for your other meals as well. And don't expect to weasel your way out of your work in the storeroom, either. You will complete it regardless."

Harry gulped, but nodded, biting out a "yes sir" between gritted teeth.

"What's wrong, Potter? That ashamed of your nasty muggle clothes?" Draco sneered.

"Shove off, Malfoy!" Harry hissed.

"That is enough!" Severus snapped. "Potter. Get to work."

"Yes, sir," the boy muttered before sulkily walking off.

"Merlin, uncle Sev. Why do we have to house that prat?"

"I agree it is unfortunate. However, as there is nothing to be done about it now, we must simply make the best of it."

Draco nodded, pouting.

"And Draco. Please try to refrain from riling Potter. It will only do to make his presence more apparent than not, you realize."

"Hm."

"I mean it, Draco. If Potter approaches you, you will tell me immediately. I want as peaceful a summer as possible. And that does not include having to referee two adolescent boys. Is that understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine."

At Severus' raised eyebrow, Draco amended, "Yes, Uncle Sev. I understand."

Severus turned back to his meal, missing the smirk playing on Draco's lips.

-HP-SS-DM-

_Day 3_

Harry was getting more than slightly panicked. Why did Snape have to be such an arse? And an observant arse, no less? And why did he have to be picky about what clothes he wore, for merlin's sakes! There was no way he was going to show his face to Snape and Malfoy in Dudley's old clothes. Besides the jeers he would no doubt have to hear, most likely, if he wore them, Snape wouldn't let him eat anyway. Stupid big-nosed git!

He'd been worrying about it all day yesterday, but he had yet to think of a solution. Picking through his trunk, he cursed himself for never using his money to buy himself casual clothes. Of course, much of that was because he'd always assumed he'd never have the chance to wear them while he was still under the Dursleys' roof.

But now he found himself in quite a predicament. The only thing he could think to do was to wear his most recent Weasley sweater over the least detestable of Dudley's cast-offs. It struck Harry how morbid it was to wear them now that Dudley was dead, but he didn't let his mind linger on that for too long.

He did his best with several scourgifies, a shrinking spell, and a color-changing spell, making the pants black and the shirt dark blue-pretty innocuous colors that he hoped would disguise the worst of the stains…

But to his chagrin, they still looked ratty and awful. So he went with the Weasley sweater, despite how hot it was. He decided he could just take it off as soon as he left the breakfast table. If Snape let him eat dressed this way, that is.

With a sigh, he made an attempt (in vain) to flatten his hair and then made his way to the dining room.

Snape wasn't there, but unfortunately, Draco was.

He took one look at Harry and nearly spat out his milk in a quite undignified fashion.

"Potter! Oh Merlin. Just wait till Sev gets here… What kind of fashion statement is that-a sweater in summer? Don't tell me _that_'s the best thing you own?" He drawled. "Let me guess-threadbare hand-me-downs from that Weasley cow?"

"Shut the bloody hell up!" Harry hissed.

"Oh? And why should I do that, Potter?"

"Don't you dare talk about Mrs. Weasley that way you sodding arrogant pri-"

"Potter. Finish that statement and you will become intimately acquainted with an old recipe of my mother's. It isn't pleasant, I can assure you. As can Draco, as a matter of fact," he added lightly.

Draco's pained face would have drawn a laugh from Harry had he not been so worked up. And his mood plummeted further when he saw Snape's disgusted expression as he surveyed Harry's choice of clothing.

"What, Potter, are you doing dressed that way?"

Harry gulped. "Well, you said not to wear my robes, sir, and-"

"Take that sweater OFF, Potter."

"But sir-"

"You ungrateful-" he trailed off. "After all you have been given here, one wouldn't think it to be such a weighty assignment. Stop acting so absurdly childish and take the sweater off!"

"FINE!" Harry yelled, his nerves stretched to their ends. The sodding bastard. What the hell had he given him? Okay, so he hadn't starved him-much. He'd still gotten enough work out of Harry that he thought it was a pretty fair exchange. Scowling, Harry yanked off the sweater, wrinkling and making his Dursley clothes look even worse.

Snape and Draco both stared at Harry for a long moment, and the Gryffindor found himself about ready to scream under their unkind inspection.

When Harry chanced a glance up, he quickly wished he hadn't. Draco looked about ready to explode into laughter, while Snape looked deadly.

Draco's reaction was no surprise. Snape, on the other hand, confused Harry. He knew he'd be annoyed, but…he looked absolutely sick with fury and he couldn't imagine why. Of course, Harry didn't realize that his coloring and shrinking jobs had been even less successful than he'd thought and Severus wasn't just seeing Harry at that moment. He was seeing countless painful days he'd been forced to wear discolored over-large shirts during his miserable childhood under Tobias Snape.

Snape couldn't imagine what Potter thought he was playing at dressing this way…but then it hit him. Occlumency. The boy had seen his early memories-some of them, at least. Snape had thought they had passed him by too quickly for him to recall any specific details, but he just couldn't think of any other reason for why the brat was dressed as he was! The boy was obviously mocking him-mocking his childhood. And that was something he wouldn't have thought even Potter capable of. Of course, his father had done his fair share of that work already.

When Draco finally couldn't hold it in any longer, and started a stream of insults and laughter, Snape found himself having reached his limit for self-containment as well.

"Get out," he whispered. "GET OUT, POTTER!"

Harry jumped, standing quickly.

"Draco, leave us."

"Huh? Why Uncle Sev?"

"NOW!"

The blond left it a hurry, shocked by the violence of his godfather's reaction. Sure, it was funny and obnoxious, but why was Sev this angry about Potter's get-up?"

Harry swallowed convulsively. Snape's anger was the kind of uncontrollable rage he'd seen only twice before-first, with the pensieve, and then again when he'd found Snape's study-but he'd never seen him so angry as he was now. But he couldn't fathom what he'd done to cause it.

"I don't understand, sir. What-"

Before he could say another word, the man was right before him and then he wasn't sure what was going on as he was only conscious of the pain as his head struck the wall the potion master pushed him back against.

"You dare…you DARE!"

Harry had never truly been scared of his teacher. Well, perhaps he had when he was younger and had thought the man was out to get him, but he had thought Snape was more bark than bite for the past few years… but now, as the man was shaking him and screaming things he didn't understand, he could absolutely say he was scared of Snape.

His head bumped a few more times against the wall before Snape hissed "Get to the lab, you ingrate! I don't want to see you again until the place is spotless! Don't you dare think you can get out of it, Potter!"

With a weak but frantic nod, Harry waited for the instant Snape released his bruising grip on his upper arms and then ran for the dungeons as fast as he could.

Tears blurred his vision as he ran, but he was too upset to stop them. His head ached, he felt humiliated, and he no longer felt the slightest bit of hope that things would get better for him. Talking to Dumbledore wouldn't help-it hadn't with the Dursleys. It certainly wouldn't now. The man had always taken up for Snape no matter what he'd done or said to Harry. Why would that change now, just because Snape had crossed some blurred line in Harry's view?

He was honestly thankful that he had chores to do as it would give him something to keep busy with…though he feared just how long Snape expected him to work at them. It sounded like the man didn't want Harry to leave the storeroom until it was entirely spotless. But that would take days-he'd barely made a dent in it the last two days, after all.

He reached the storeroom and dove into the cleaning with all the angry strength coiled in his gut.

He hated Snape. He absolutely hated him. But if that were the case, why did it still hurt so much that the man had treated him as he had? Had said the things he had? Why did he continue to compare the way the man looked at him, spoke to him, to the way he treated Draco?

Harry worked for hours without interruption, his only awareness of the passing of time from the way his stomach pinched in hunger. He was also cold, and becoming increasingly aware of how insufficient the ratty Dursley hand-me-downs were for the basement storeroom. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he began to sniffle and his headache escalated violently. It was getting harder to breath, but he ignored that, stepping up another rung on the ladder to reach the next shelf.

A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him and he nearly lost his balance.

He attempted to regain his balance, gasping for breath, only to find his throat was killing him.

_Damn it! Why do I have to get sick now of all times?_

Knowing he wouldn't be able to keep this up, he climbed back down the ladder and began working on the floor. Another wave of dizziness washed over him, however, and he stumbled to the ground, attempting to blink away the spots in his vision…

"I'll just…take a break," Harry said to himself, and found a wall to lean back against. He was just starting to doze off when he heard the sound of sharp footsteps in the hallway before a door was yanked open.

"Wake up, Potter."

Harry jumped at the sight of dark looming figure scowling down at him.

"S-sorry, sir!" Harry rasped.

"I don't want to hear it," the man said, sounding tired, no longer looking at Harry. "Just go on back to your room. You may resume this tomorrow."

With that, the man spun and left Harry to fend for himself. It seemed to take forever to find his little hallway. Eventually, though, he made it back to his room and collapsed, shivering, in his bed.

His last thought before oblivion took him was that he could have avoided all this trouble if he'd only gotten breakfast from the house-elves, ignoring Snape and Draco. After all, Tilly wouldn't care about his clothes…

* * *

I know...ANGST, ANGST, ANGST. Poor Harry. Lots of unfair things going on. But the story is cresting a bit. Some explanations are to come next chapter.

Please continue to review! Thanks so much!


	5. Regrets, Curiosity, Denial, and Truth

**The True Face of Another**

I am humbled and honored by the reception to this story, so far! Thank you all so much! Many things covered in this chapter. I hope you enjoy!

I do not own HP

* * *

**Chapter 5: Regrets, Curiosity, Denial, and a Taste of Truth**

_Several Hours Earlier_

The instant the boy left the dining room, Severus stared at his hands in shock. With a growl of rage and disbelief, he slammed his fist into the wall-something he hadn't done in years.

He had sworn to himself…that he would NEVER treat a child as his father had him. He had sworn it! And yet, though he hadn't actually hit Potter, he had gotten closer than he would like to admit. He hadn't been aware at the time-his thoughts had simply been to shake some sense into the boy-and the cruelty out of him…

But he couldn't say for sure that he hadn't hurt the boy.

He hated himself for stooping to such a level.

And he hated Potter for pushing him to such an extreme.

It had been Potter who had gone out of his way to bring those memories back-to bring Severus back to those horrible days when Tobias Snape would drink and curse and bully him-sometimes by locking him in a closet all night…usually by using his belt.

Perhaps Potter didn't know the extent of it, but he had blatantly mocked Severus' childhood poverty with his morning get-up. It was absolutely inexcusable.

So while he shouldn't have let his emotions get the better of him-and he certainly shouldn't have touched Potter-he knew his rage had been well-founded.

Not that Albus would see it that way.

The idea of those bloody piercing blue eyes looking at him with disappointment just rankled. Bloody Potter. He had known it would be a terrible idea to house the boy. He just hadn't expected things to turn so extreme so quickly.

Severus made his way from the dining room, intent on spending the day in his study. He needed to calm down before he dealt with Potter.

-HP-SS-DM-

Draco stood, stock-still, watching from the cracked-open side door as Potter wrenched himself free of Severus' grip and ran, his gait wobbly, from the room.

He hated to admit it, but he was unnerved. Even though he knew that Severus had once been a death eater-and not only a spy-Draco himself had never seen the man hurt another person… not physically. Sure, he'd seen him hex well enough, but the way he'd lashed out at Potter was different. Sev had been so angry, and Draco knew he was missing something, because he honestly didn't see what had disturbed him so greatly that he'd lost his usual near-perfect control.

Severus had obviously thought Potter was trying to offend him in some deep way. But as little as he ever wanted to back up Potter, he knew the prat wasn't malicious or vindictive. He was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake! He didn't have it in him. He may have thought he was making some statement with those clothes-_bloody dumb statement, if you ask me. _

But something was wrong with Potter-what exactly that was, Draco wasn't sure. And Draco didn't like being unsure about things. All he knew was that he was missing something. And without enough information, how could he act to push the right buttons? Regardless, he _was _going to figure Potter out. He had decided that, privately, even before he'd met the boy, before he'd known whether Potter would be his friend or his enemy. And since the prat had refused his friendship, he'd had to go about it a different way. Though he'd used it to torment the boy, he'd always made it his business to be an expert on all things Potter.

Part of Draco wanted to confront his godfather about what Potter had done that had been so offensive, but…seeing Sev lose control like that had honestly scared him.

Draco had always adored and respected his father, but still, he had always known to be wary of Lucius Malfoy, to never demand shows of affection.

Severus, though, had always seemed to Draco to be perfect father material-Draco could remember feeling that way as a child, at least. Even though the potions master was cold to most people, he had been open and caring with Draco almost as long as he could remember and had never disciplined him unfairly. Ever.

But Draco had just seen another side of Severus-a side he wished he had never seen…

He had to get to the bottom of this…To find out what had driven his godfather to such a state. And perhaps he could find something to get Potter out of their lives for good.

-HP-SS-DM-

Knowing the Gryffindor would still be working in the storeroom for a while yet, Draco crept into the laughably small room he'd led Potter to, shocked more than he wanted to admit that the boy hadn't complained about it. Draco really didn't get Potter. Why hadn't he said anything? Draco had been looking forward to that explosion since he'd decided to take his rival to this out-of-the-way hole the first night. Shouldn't it have been obvious this wasn't his real room? Because honestly…who would live in a place like this?

Well, servants, of course. This whole area used to be for servants' quarters. Sev had always hated slavery of any kind (though Draco still didn't quite get why), so these rooms hadn't been used in years, but Potter had clearly made himself right at home.

Draco scoffed, torn between disgust and reluctantly being impressed by how well Potter had cleaned up the place. It was a fair sight less miserable than it had been.

He felt momentarily guilty for leading Potter to this room, but then again, even the thought of having the prat living anywhere near him and Severus just made his gut twist with disgust.

He noticed Potter's owl cage was empty. Lucky thing-that bird seemed pretty over-protective.

Locating Potter's trunk, Draco undid the lock and flipped it open after testing it for curses. He scoffed at Potter's not applying any additional safeguards to it.

He frowned, looking in. Despite how bare the room itself was, there was hardly anything in the trunk. Books. Shoes (if one could call them that. Draco sure couldn't). Hogwarts robe and tie. Some old dress robes…Draco began sifting through and found himself wishing he'd thought to bring gloves. _Ah well. A few scourgifies will do the trick._

He located several monstrosities that all seemed to be Weasley-made. Besides that, though, there was only an assortment of moldy, disgusting, oversized material Draco supposed had been clothing at some point, all in the same style as the _things _Potter had chosen to wear today.

Draco sank down onto the stiff-mattresses bed.

What could it mean? Was this some elaborate ruse Potter was up to? But look as he might, Draco could not find any clothing other than what he had already found.

Potter couldn't seriously only have those clothes. And if so, why? The Potters were a wealthy pureblood family, after all. Potter had money-and certainly his relatives spoiled him. Right? He was the bloody boy-who-lived, after all. There was no way…well, he thought with derision, his relatives _were _bloody muggles…and it wasn't like Potter seemed that upset about their deaths…

A squawk made him jump, and he turned to see Potter's snowy owl staring at him suspiciously.

"Oh, great. Hey Potter's owl. Listen, don't bug me-I'm just trying to figure things out, okay? I'm not doing anything."

The owl continued to watch him keenly as Draco crouched, thinking over his findings. She followed him with her sharp yellow eyes, but didn't attack him as he checked other areas of the room for spare clothing hidden away. Even a revelio charm brought nothing else out… but then he noticed something glinting in the chest-it looked almost like a cloak, but an instant later, it was gone.

As he reached for it, he found himself suddenly getting pecked by Potter's familiar. "Damn owl! Get the bloody hell off! No, not my hair! Do you know how long it took me to-okay, you know what? Fine. I saw what I came to see."

Grumbling, Draco closed and locked the trunk and left the room, glaring at the owl and nursing his pecked wrist.

-HP-SS-DM-

It was 8 o'clock before Severus recalled Potter was not only still working, but that he likely hadn't eaten…no, considering the store-room door had remained closed, he had to assume that Potter truly hadn't had a bite to eat. It truly hadn't crossed Severus' mind as he himself hadn't felt like eating after the morning's occurrences, but that was no excuse.

He scowled, planting his face roughly in his palm. So now he'd not only physically attacked the boy but had neglected to feed him. Self-loathing and anger and guilt warred in his chest. But little as there was he could do to fix it, there was something he could do to at least stop it getting any worse…

"Nelly."

"Yes, Master Severus sir?"

"Please bring Mr. Potter's dinner to his room and leave it there for him."

"Yes, master Severus sir! Right away sir!"

The little elf vanished and Severus waited until he felt he could be in the brat's presence without lashing out. He then swiftly descended the stairs to his lab.

But the sight that met him almost made him lost his composure despite his mental preparation. The brat was asleep.

Nevertheless, Severus forced himself to simply wake the brat and send him to bed. No doubt then he could pamper and gorge himself and in the morning they could return to their state of mutual dislike.

With that thought, Severus left the brat alone, more than ready to put the boy out of his mind. Bloody Potter. He'd been consumed with guilt all day and what was the brat doing but sleeping on the bloody job!

But he knew it was better he had just sent the boy away rather than scold him. After his earlier display, he wasn't sure he would have been able to restrain himself from lashing out. What had he been thinking taking in Draco? He was clearly not fit to be a guardian. And what was that old fool thinking saddling him with Potter as well?

This just wasn't working. He would speak to the headmaster tomorrow. Potter could not stay with them any longer.

-HP-SS-DM-

_Day 5_

Harry's head was on fire when he woke up. His body was freezing, though, so he clutched his pitiful covers closer to him. Oh, and he was so thirsty…but as he swallowed, a wave of pain washed over him. It felt like his throat was burning and he couldn't help but cry out, though that only worsened the sensation. His stomach churned unpleasantly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten a morsel yesterday, but he felt so disoriented that he wasn't sure how long it really had been.

Just a day? A few? And where was he? Oh yeah, Snape's. Harry knew the man would be just like the Dursleys if he knew he was sick. He'd have to just wait it out, like always.

Why did his throat hurt so much? He was almost certain it was on fire. Nothing less could make it burn like this…

A flash of white brushed by him and he tried to smile at Hedwig. "S'okay, girl. I'm…fine…"

-HP-SS-DM-

The boy was once again not at breakfast.

Severus scowled furiously. The brat probably wanted to make him look bad, to gather evidence to present to Dumbledore that he was neglecting to feed him…unfortunately, that had become a reality yesterday, regardless of how unintentional it had been.

Draco seemed preoccupied. When Severus attempted to start a conversation with him, he answered politely, formally. It was so unlike his usual behavior when it was just the two of them that Severus had to inquire.

"Is there something the matter, Draco?"

The blond was silent for a time before finally looking at Severus in the eye to ask his question. "Uncle Sev. Why did you get so angry with Potter yesterday?"

Severus' jaw clenched, his eyes widening ever so slightly, but he quickly smoothed out his features. If it had been anyone else, he would never have considered answering…but it wasn't just anyone. It was Draco. And he looked sincere and even the slightest bit concerned…about Potter, a boy Draco had never made any effort to hide his dislike of. Severus was striving to build an environment of openness and honesty with his godson. And though perhaps this wasn't any of the boy's business, Snape knew him well enough to realize that the boy would likely go looking for trouble if he kept too much from him. Snape grimaced in acknowledgement of this tendency Draco shared with Potter.

Severus sighed. "Why do you want to know?"

Draco studied him silently for another long moment. He looked uncharacteristically serious when he answered. "I've never seen you so angry. It…wasn't like you. I know school is different, but otherwise you've always been patient and completely fair, even when I was a brat and…I know Potter's a prat and you don't like him. Hell, I hate the sodding Gryffindor. But it surprised me is all. I suppose, it didn't seem serious enough, his dressing in those awful rags, for such a reaction."

Severus looked Draco in the eye, considering his answer. Draco knew something of Severus' childhood due to his having spent so much time in Severus' ancestral home over the years. But he was still uncomfortable discussing it with the anyone, his godson included. For Severus, those were times he would rather never again revisit. But perhaps he could satisfy Draco's curiosity without going into too much detail.

"It wasn't the clothing he wore so much as his obvious intention in doing so."

"Oh?" Draco kept his tone light. "And what intention was that?"

_To humiliate me. _Severus took a deep breath. No, he would not come out and say it. "Potter saw some of my memories this year during our Occlumency lessons. One of those memories was of my childhood. Potter's get-up was reminiscent of…" he trailed off. "He was clearly making a statement, attempting some childish revenge by mocking my…childhood apparel," he admitted, though feeling inexplicably ashamed even as he voiced his insecurities. Because it was clear that was what had been at the heart of his violent response.

The room was silent until finally Severus looked up to find Draco looking at him in a way he had long dreaded. Comprehension, but shock and pity were there too. And disappointment.

Severus made to leave the table.

"Uncle Sev, you're wrong," Draco blurted.

"What do you mean, wrong?" He snapped.

"About Potter. As much as I hate to admit it, he's not…like that. If I'd known that's what you thought, I could have told you yesterday."

"I think I know what Potter is capable of, Draco."

Suddenly Draco felt an inexplicable rush of anger-at what, he wasn't sure. Perhaps it was that such a stupid misunderstanding had caused Severus to act in a way that was so contrary to everything he stood for. Perhaps it was because of Draco's own confusion at Potter's behavior and the revelation of his scant belongings. Regardless, Draco sneered. "Do you really? Which Potter, Uncle Sev? Because for all Harry Potter's faults, I do know he's not vindictive like that."

Severus had to reign in his desire to yell at the child. How dare Draco bring up James Potter!

"Draco," he bit out, "Mind your tongue. You don't know what you speak of-"

"You told him not to wear his robe, right? And that if he didn't, he couldn't come to breakfast? You told him to wear something presentable…well guess what? Those were the best clothes the poor sod has in his bloody trunk!" Draco had become increasingly aggravated until he was practically yelling by the end. He wasn't sure why he cared, but he'd been thinking non-stop about what he'd seen in Potter's trunk…about Potter. About how Potter had been sleeping in that miserable room without complaining, slaving away while he, Draco, flew around on his Nimbus 2002…

He'd been happy with things that way. The unfairness of the situation hadn't bothered him a bit-in fact, he'd been thrilled to see Potter knocked down a few pegs…until now. Suddenly, Severus' attitude towards Potter wasn't funny anymore. Somehow, something had shifted again and Draco just knew-maybe it was hearing how Severus was still so haunted by his childhood and then seeing Potter at the same time. He didn't know. But whatever the reason, it was as if he wasn't even seeing Potter anymore, but a mix between his rival and his godfather and he felt the need to defend him. He'd been responsible for some of Potter's troubles, after all.

Severus could hardly remember a time he'd been shocked more than he was now. Draco, who had hated Potter from the day they had met, much as he, Severus, had Potter Sr., was defending the boy and seemed genuinely upset for him. It was mind boggling. What had gotten into the child? Well, he couldn't' have Draco feeling so upset. Reassuring his godson was his first priority. He'd deal with Potter later.

"Draco, surely he has his clothing stored elsewhere. You must have just seen his receptacle for clothing he has been too lax to dispose of."

"No, Uncle Sev. Trust me-I looked. I even cast revelio. There's something up with Potter. I don't get him. Always having to play the bloody hero, never complaining, no matter what and…"

"I beg to differ. Potter certainly complains-with a fair amount of defiance mixed in. Of course, he is also stubbornly defiant."

"Well yeah, of course. I know, Severus, but…I just. Something's not right. Don't you find it odd? Why didn't Potter like his relatives, for one thing? He covets those flee-ridden Weasleys. And he always stays at Hogwarts for breaks, you know." He gave him a long look and Severus scowled, waving off his concern.

"Whatever petty disagreements the child had with his relatives are not your concern. Besides, what you suggest is beyond the realm of possibility. He is the boy-who-lived and Dumbledore-" Severus scowled again. "Draco, I appreciate what you are trying to do-and I will look into it if it will reassure you. I can almost guarantee, however, that your worries are unfounded."

"He's missing breakfast again," Draco commented. "And why doesn't he ever eat?"

"It is nothing more than stubbornness, I assure you. But you are right, Draco, that I should not allow this sullen behavior to continue. Rest assured I had never intended to keep the boy from eating, regardless of his apparel or behavior. I shall ensure he makes it to every meal from now on and understands this-though I still shall not abide him lounging around the manor in sleepwear. You need not concern yourself."

Draco nodded, looking more satisfied. Honestly, Severus couldn't believe Potter had knocked him so off-kilter. He had always been so insistent about making sure children (teenagers included) never missed meals and yet he'd let Potter unsettle him in even the most basic levels of his personal strictures.

"Tilly, could you wake up Mr. Potter, please?"

Tilly appeared, looking somewhat uncertain. "From his bedroom, Master Severus?"

"Yes, of course," he snapped irritably. "He needs to attend his meals and I will not abide him sleeping all hours. Tell him to get out of his bed and join us regardless of his attire."

Tilly nodded, but returned a moment later. "Master Severus, he is not there…"

Severus cursed. "Fine. Look elsewhere and return when you find him."

The elf nodded and popped away.

Severus noticed that Draco looked somewhat uncomfortable-evidenced only by his slightly twitching foot and right hand. The potions master leaned over to ask what the matter was when Tilly returned.

"Sir, he is nowhere to be found!"

"What?" Severus cast a quick homonum revelio spell, informing him that Potter was, indeed, in the manor, and relaxed.

"Oh sir, it is happening again!" She continued, not having noticed the spell cast. "He is just not here!"

"He is here, Tilly, I assure you. And what do you mean _again_?" He asked sharply.

The elf looked near tears. "Oh, but sir! Every night, when Tilly is going to turn down Master Harry's bed sheets, he is not having slept in his bed! And his dinner from last night, it is not being eaten! Tilly was thinking she is confused about who Mr. Potter is until she is meeting Mr. Potter before breakfast and he is ever so nice to Tilly! Tilly is telling him to come to the kitchen anytime and-"

Thinking a piece of the puzzle was finally falling into place, Severus quickly cut in, "Ah, so has Mr. Potter been getting food from the kitchen?"

"Oh no sir! Tilly is telling him but he is not coming! He is not knowing the way! But Tilly is worried that Master Harry is not alright, sir!"

"Don't worry-the boy is here. No doubt hiding somewhere…but why-" He froze, one explanation for the house-elf's inability to locate the boy coming to mind.

Severus looked at Draco sharply.

"Draco. You didn't show Potter the servants' quarters, did you?"

Draco refused to make eye contact.

"For what purpose?" Severus wasn't sure if he believed the conclusion he'd come to, but it would certainly explain the house-elves' inability to find the boy. After all, the manor's old servant quarters, being a part of the history of Prince Manor he didn't like to consider, had long been warded so that the area could only be seen when one was led by someone who had already seen it themselves. He quite regretted having folded to Draco's 10-year-old demands to see the dismal hall, something which had resulted in hours of being unable to find the boy when Severus was attempting to punish him for some infraction or other.

And house-elf magic would have no effect in those regions, nor could the house-elves see the space-something originally meant to keep human servants and house-elves from intruding on each other's space…

Had Draco been assisting Potter in some prank? Why else had he shown the boy that area?

Suddenly, Potter's snowy owl flew into the room, squawking wildly, as if panicked.

As it was well-known amongst Hogwarts faculty that this bird was uncommonly intelligent and surely would not cause a ruckus for nothing, Severus stood suddenly. "Hedwig, is it? Is it Potter?"

The owl seemed to squawk affirmatively before taking off, Severus following, wondering just what kind of mess the boy had managed to get himself into this time.

Severus scowled as Hedwig led them into the dark, dingy servant quarters. Merlin, how Severus hated this place. It had always reminded him of his time with Tobias and the room he had had at Spinners' End before his mother had taken them to her ancestral home.

The owl led them down the hall to the last room. The door was open and Severus walked in, ready to give Potter a talking-to he would long remember, but his retort fell short on his tongue as he looked at the depressing hole of a room.

The miserable little place was spotless, and yet Severus knew for a fact that the room should have been absolutely filthy-after all, house-elves never wandered into this god-forsaken area, and it had been decades since Prince Manor had seen a human servant. Draco would never deign to lift a finger, nor was Severus convinced the blond even knew the first thing about cleaning, so clearly Potter had been keeping busy…which made no sense unless…

A cold weight settled in his chest.

"Draco," Snape said, his voice strangely calm as he surveyed the spotless, but dilapidated furniture and the empty owl cage, "tell me you didn't inform Potter that THIS miserable little hell-hole was his room?"

Draco gulped. "I didn't expect him to stay," he whispered, his eyes locked on the inhabitant of the bed. Potter looked miserable, and the ratty little paper-thin blanket covering him certainly didn't help. He suddenly felt a flare of guilt that he couldn't suppress.

Severus turned to the room's inhabitant and his eyes widened at Potter's appearance. The boy's skin was pasty white and he was soaked in sweat. Approaching him quickly, Severus cast a diagnostic, and his eyes widened in alarm.

He had seen the boy just the night before. How could he have gotten so sick in such a short amount of time unless… A spastic shiver shot through Potter and the unconscious child began to blindly scratch at his throat. Severus instinctively grabbed the boy's wrists to stop him hurting himself, slightly alarmed by just how thin and fragile the limbs felt in his grasp, and snapped to Draco, not taking his eyes from Potter, "Call Poppy and bring her to Potter's room-his real room, mind you! Now!"

Cursing himself for his negligence-why hadn't he at least checked in on Potter _once_ to make sure he'd settled in and found his room? -but knowing it was too late for that-Severus bundled the boy up (after transforming the miserable blanket the boy had been using into something which actually provided warmth) and lifted him into his arms.

As he rushed the boy out of the likely germ-infested area the boy had been holed up in and up into the luxurious room he had intended for the boy, he pondered how very light the boy was. He was nearly 16 and yet Severus had absolutely no trouble carrying him whatsoever. He had more the feel of a 12-year-old in his arms.

But first things first.

After setting Potter down on the large four-poster, Severus summoned fever reducers and pain potions, both of which he spelled directly into Potter as he knew he wouldn't be able to swallow currently.

He wasn't sure what, but he feared the boy may have ingested something whilst cleaning.

How could he have been such a fool, letting the boy work, unsupervised, around a multitude of volatile potion ingredients? How could he have been so inexcusably irresponsible with this boy? Now that the reality of the moment was clearing away the haze of anger and irritation he had been operating under for the past few days due to the perceived wrong of having Potter thrust on him, it seemed as if accusations were falling on him, one after another, the longer he stared at the vulnerable-looking boy, so different from the defiant one he was used to.

Poppy arrived at that moment, saving Severus the mental lashing he was rearing to give himself. He moved aside to let the woman work and noticed Draco standing in the doorway looking forlorn and guilty.

"This is not a show, Draco. Leave us," he snapped, and the boy scurried out, looking stricken.

Good, Severus thought unforgivingly. The little brat had started this whole mess…

But no. Severus truly had no one to blame but himself. He was supposed to be the adult, and he had further been armed with the knowledge of Draco and Potter's mutual enmity when he had accepted (reluctantly as it was) Albus' proposal. And as much as he often liked to disregard the fact, he knew that Draco was at least as responsible for beginning his conflicts with Potter in most cases. And so he should have, had he been thinking clearly, been prepared for such childish (yet cruel) pranks as Draco had clearly pulled on Potter.

Had he even given the Potter boy more than a cursory glance shaded in his usual dislike, perhaps he would have seen the boy's sullen behavior as more than what he'd assumed-behavior akin to that of a spoiled child upset at having a plaything taken from him.

"Severus!" Snape looked up to see Poppy Pomphrey looking at him with impatience.

"My apologies, Poppy, I was elsewhere."

"Well see to it that you do not remain so any longer! I need a potions master, Mr. Snape, not an audience," she chastised him snappily, as if he were still a first-year.

Biting back a sharp retort, Snape nodded and stepped forward to examine the boy more closely. Potter had regained some of the color in his face, but he was still sweating feverishly, and his eyes were screwed up as if in pain. He was unmoving otherwise. The boy also appeared to be dangerously thin, Snape realized. He had noted Potter's wiry frame on occasion, but covered as it usually was in baggy clothing, it was not normally so obvious as it was now, with the boy stripped to his undergarments.

"What is your diagnosis?"

"Most urgently, his throat and sinuses have been burned, most certainly due to inhalation of a mixture of chemicals and uncommon potions ingredients," she said, her voice clipped as she looked over the list of ailments her scan had reported. "The damage is relatively minor and so he should make a full recovery. He's in for a difficult night, however."

Snape nodded, having expected this. Once again, the knowledge that his neglect had caused this rankled.

"He has a number of other fractures and contusions, though nothing serious since he came to be here. However, he also has signs of malnutrition." Her lips pursed, she gave Severus a hard stare.

"Malnutrition?" He asked calmly, though inside he felt anything but calm. "Such a healthy boy could not reach such a state in so short a period of time," he said, his voice somewhat defensive.

"That would be true, were Harry a healthy boy," Pomphrey allowed. "But his system does not appear to be as strong as one might hope."

"Meaning?"

Poppy gave him a long look, as if determining whether to trust him with this information. Severus twitched under her regard, feeling as if she could see through him, see all his sins. "Mr. Potter has always been thin, and, to be honest, has shown signs of malnutrition almost consistently since I first treated him. Considering the various traumas the boy has endured, it is perhaps not surprising he has neglected to eat sufficiently from time to time…but this indicates a much more long-term and deep-rooted problem," she mused. "Reverting so quickly suggests that he must have been in a similar state for much of his formative years." Her voice trailed off, as if she were talking to herself, "I had, of course, noticed that he seemed thinner after summers, but in general he never has had reason to see me before mid-way through the year and so…"

"I see. Nutritive potions, as well, then."

Poppy nodded. "Yes, and please retrieve several high-strength pain potions and a Level III tissue regeneration draught."

Severus quickly summoned what he had available. "I will need to brew more of the tissue regeneration potion."

"This shall do for several hours." Looking up and seeing the distraught look on the normally expressionless face, her voice softened a bit. "Don't worry, Severus. I shall look after him until you return. I am sure that, whatever led to this, it was not deliberate."

"Perhaps not, but-"

"I am aware of your failings in regards to Mr. Potter," she continued, her voice hard. "I assure you there are plenty. You would do well to think carefully, Severus Snape, about how you decide to interact with him in the future. If what I suspect is true, his system cannot take much more harsh treatment."

"I will be back with the potions," Severus simply said with a short nod after a moment of stilted silence. He swept from the room, but not before taking one last glance at the boy he had hated for so long, who looked so weak and vulnerable lying there with his dirty hair just as greasy and bedraggled as Severus' had ever looked in his own miserable childhood.

Poppy's words pounded through his head without pause as he strode from the room and towards the potions labs. He paused at the door to Draco's room, cracked open an inch. It hit Severus that his own behavior had enabled Draco to act out, and had, in fact, reinforced it. He owed it to his godson, too, to help him rethink his actions.

* * *

I realize I covered a whole lot in this chapter. Was it too much? Too rushed? Were Draco's motivations expressed clearly enough or did he seem OOC? And don't worry-things will not be perfectly smooth sailing from now on. It was high time for a wake-up call, but don't expect Harry, Severus and Draco to get over their various hang-ups too quickly.

Please send me your thoughts!

I fear I don't have the next chapter written yet, so it may be a few days. I'll do my best not to take too long with it!


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